Kick The Habit
by deletrear
Summary: Yes, Itachi's emotional and physical well-being is his first and only priority. No, Sasuke does not have anything remotely resembling a plan to ensure this. It's fine, honestly.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Kick The Habit

 **Summary:** The one where Sasuke gets dropped back in time and doesn't make one single, selfless, honest effort to alter the future at all. Except to ensure Itachi's happiness, of course. As always, Sasuke's big brother comes first. [Gen. Big Brother!Sasuke. AU.]

 **Notes:** Not that it needs to be said but everyone should be aware that from the first episode of Naruto, this dumb tsundere little kid was my favourite and it's been that way ever since. Additionally, I wanted Time Travel Sasuke but didn't want to get too angsty about it. Therefore… OOC-warning! Also Sasuke's poncho is the hideous rainbow-colored thing from the latest Naruto Shippuden game and it's official, it is. COVER ART from coincidentallyicanimgay on tumblr!

 **Warnings:** One or two instances of profanity, ( _mild_ ) mentions of body mutilation, decapitation, nothing serious, really.

* * *

 **Kick The Habit**

 **\- X -**

* * *

In the end, Naruto isn't the only shinobi dedicated to keeping his word. Perhaps he's the most trustworthy, the softest of them all, but he didn't invent the concept of dedication or loyalty. While Sasuke's claim on that last concept isn't exactly strong, he still beats out anyone still alive on the former.

You see, once Sasuke makes up his mind, it takes a _hell_ of a lot to change it: earth-shaking secrets, unexpected betrayals, four reanimated Kage, to name a few. If Sasuke does something once, screw the scientific method – it's a pattern, right from the get-go.

 _Creature of habit,_ he could be considered. _Resistant to change. Uneased by surprises. Low on agreeability._

At five, he resolves to surpass his older brother. Two years later, he resolves to kill him. Sasuke fulfills both of these promises because without them, truthfully, he's at a bit of a loss of what to do with his life. But he keeps on going on. He said he would, and so he does. There's no other option for him.

Based on that logic, the first time Sasuke takes (what he believes is) a fatal blow for Naruto should have been something of a warning for everyone. A few flags might have been raised. Sasuke values _routine;_ if he's done it once, who's to say he won't do it again? But then, Sasuke doesn't _actually_ die that time. Everyone else decides it isn't the thought that counts after all and moves on.

Poor decision-making skills, there.

It is ab _solutely_ the thought that counts.

Madara – dressed in white, more psychotic than previously believed possible, narrowly avoiding death by sacrificing his shadow-selves (which, okay) – is the one to deal the blow. It's meant for Naruto (because of course it is). It's one of his shadow-selves taking initiative this time and the weapon it's holding is _effective_ , or it seems as much, and the attacker is moving fast enough that it's barely more than a blur. It's coming in from behind and Sasuke is the only one between them who can _see_ the shades, and –

And he's always been quicker.

 _Habit._

Death-by-Haku was painful, though not the most painful experience of young Sasuke's life.

Death-by-Madara is … markedly different. Mostly in that it _seriously fucking hurts._

The thing with being impaled in multiple places in your body is that not even being the reincarnation of a son of the Sage of Six Paths can save you if you are impaled in the _heart._ It's … pretty much a one-way trip at that point. A train with a single destination and no intention of stopping.

So, Sasuke takes the fatal blow.

Naruto cries. Sasuke calls him a stupid crybaby – not his best work, he knows – with his last breath. As he loses the energy to keep his eyes open, the incandescent _rage_ on Naruto's face is almost enough to reassure him of the outcome of the war.

The idiot isn't the only shinobi to keep the promises he makes, sure, but he _is_ the most trustworthy.

 _(When he was twelve, plugged full of senbon and dying, Sasuke trusted a teammate to kill a certain man in his honor. Bleeding out at seventeen, Sasuke stays true to habit and asks just about the same exact thing of the same exact teammate. More or less, anyway._

 _At least this time, he_ actually _dies.)_

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Or not.

Sasuke, against his better judgement (another pattern of his), opened his eyes. His first thought?

' _Trees.'_

Lots and _lots_ of trees. That narrowed down his location to approximately the Land of Fire. Literally no other country had as many trees as Fire did. The only one that came close was Lightning, and given that most of that country was mountainlands, it didn't count. Currently, the air was too easy to breathe so he wasn't in Kumo. Luckily enough. The Raikage still had it out for Sasuke.

His _second_ thought was: '… _Why am I alive?'_

He breathed ( _how?_ ) and flexed his fingers. Ten of those. He checked his chakra levels. Nearly empty, which might have been concerning if Sasuke didn't have a shit load of chakra to begin with and wasn't fresh from a war zone. Eyes: two of them, one more purple than the other. Legs weren't missing, luckily, but more importantly–

Sasuke reached for his hip and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of Kusanagi. Good. His sword was important to his fighting style. While Sasuke was more than capable of surviving without it, he preferred not to. Kenjutsu wasn't as effective without _his_ sword.

Altogether, he seemed … pretty much okay. Bit tired. Still wired for a battle, sure, but Sasuke lived in a constant state of wanting to fight someone to the death so it wasn't particularly difficult to smother the urge for now.

However, there _was_ a suspicious lack of dying shinobi. The world around him was offensively peaceful.

" _Kai_."

A bird abandoned it's perch in the trees to sing to the clouds.

Eternal Tsukiyomi didn't work on him as far as he and his Susano'o were concerned, and that problem had been dealt with by the time of his death. This couldn't be Sasuke's idea of a perfect world. There was a decided lack of his older brother, for one, and too many singing woodland animals on top of that. _Not_ his ideal world. Not even close.

He needed to find a town. Somewhere to gather his bearings, intelligence, and maybe some new clothes. The shirt he was wearing had multiple blood-stained holes, after all. It was hardly conspicuous.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

"One room."

The Inn-Keeper eyed Sasuke's attire – the outfit he was wearing when he woke up in the forest except with a stolen dirty poncho thrown over it – and made a visible effort not to judge _too_ harshly. He smiled. "Of course, sir! That'll be 5,000 yen for the night."

Sasuke blinked. ' _5,000?'_ He didn't bother checking his pockets. There was nothing to be found.

Typically, Sasuke didn't bother keeping money on him. His years as a nukenin didn't create many shopping opportunities; if he did go out, he got away with not paying by getting someone else to do it for him.

Problem. Sasuke did not have anyone else with him to cover his fees.

His right eye spun. The Inn-Keeper promptly passed out, hitting the wooden floor with a painful 'thump'. Sasuke chose a key at random and went to his room, where he passed out on the single-bed for 12 hours.

Upon waking, he acquired new clothes. He put any salesclerk who offered help into a deep, possibly indefinite sleep. He kept the poncho. It was light, protected him from the elements, and hid his sword from initial assessment. Also, he was fond of the coloring. Sasuke decided to let himself enjoy it while he had it.

Clothes successfully stolen, Sasuke moved onto the next agenda on his list: information. Namely, _where was he, why was he here, why wasn't he dead, how could it be that there was no war happening?_ All in all, questions that needed answers if he wanted any idea on how to move on. While Naruto's self-righteous rage _might_ end the war, Sasuke wasn't about to trust in that. He needed to get back and help.

The dobe was going to get the entire world destroyed without Sasuke at his side.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Squadrons of dead shinobi were not difficult to come by, all told.

Sasuke kneeled at one such corpse and grunted, turning the red-clad body on its side. Did he know why a squadron of Iwa shinobi were dead inside the Land of Fire? No, and he didn't really care. What he did care about was that they'd all been beheaded and looted of any noteworthy equipment, but retained their Bingo Books and basic tools.

Dead shinobi still had their uses.

Sasuke left the bodies behind (they'd obviously been left there for other Iwa shinobi to discover) and read through a Bingo Book: a shinobi's bread and butter. Most shinobi had their own copy of the Book. The only one Sasuke knew of who _didn't_ was Orochimaru, who considered himself too powerful to concern himself with others.

While Sasuke was arrogant, he wasn't stupid. He had owned a Bingo Book. His first Bingo Book had a lot of red pen in it, with X's and kunai and the words 'DIE! DIE! DIE!' scribbled over his older brother's page. After he killed Itachi, he needed a new book so he could do the same thing to Danzo's page while pretending that Itachi's page wasn't covered in tear drops and teenage regret.

Anyway, Bingo Book.

First page? _Namikaze_ _Minato. S-rank. Flee-on-sight._ Followed by the Sannin themselves, including Orochimaru, who was listed as being affiliated with Konoha. _'Student of Hiruzen Sarutobi,'_ it said. Present tense. No mention of him being a complete psycho who experimented on children and was thrown out the village, which probably meant that he hadn't been.

The idea was unsettling to Sasuke. If he couldn't trust in Orochimaru to remain consistently amoral and creepy, what _could_ he trust in?

At least all the dead Iwa shinobi started making a bit more sense. Considering where – or _when_ – he was, if he ventured into the Earth country, he'd expect Konoha shinobi crucified at every forked road. That wasn't even accounting for all the outposts and active battlefields he could encounter at literally any time.

The fact that this was a real concern was laughable. Crucified, mutilated bodies weren't new to Sasuke. He was a student of the Snake Sannin. Grossly disrespected corpses came with the territory.

Slightly less laughable? Sasuke was, maybe, supposedly, possibly, in the past.

In the _past._ During the Third war. Where Naruto's idiot father was still alive and wiping out thousands of Iwa shinobi in one sweep. Where Orochimaru _hadn't_ been caught killing orphans. Where Kakashi was probably a _child_ –

Sasuke's thought processes ground to such a sudden, screeching halt that there was _smoke._

If _Kakashi_ was still a child …

… then so was _Itachi._

Making the snap decision was not hard at all.

Screw Naruto and his war!

Sasuke had already _died_ for it, he didn't intend on giving anymore than that. He was sent back in time for a reason, he figured, and whatever reason it was, it couldn't be a coincidence that during this period, Itachi was a child. An innocent, pacifist, genius, _only_ child.

(' _Such a creature of habit_ ,' a voice whispers in the back of his head. It might be his conscience; Sasuke ignores it, as he always does. Who cares about predictability? Sasuke's first priority has always and _will_ always be his older brother. Whatever it takes, Sasuke is getting Itachi out of that village. Damn the rest.)

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

What's that phrase? 'Easier said than done'? Well, luckily, that logic didn't apply to the possessor of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, the Rinnegan, and the blessing of the Sage of Sixth Paths.

Sasuke's first order of business was to look for trouble.

Simple enough. He followed the fighting. There was a lot of that, and he left a fair trail of bodies behind him on his way to the frontlines (cleaning up after himself was too much effort). He arrived at the heart of the fighting within a month of his arrival.

Secondly: establish himself as an ally to Konoha.

Potentially problematic. Not complicated but it would require more effort than the first step, as Sasuke didn't wear Konoha green and it was the _frontlines_.

However, he also _didn't_ wear Iwa red, or Kiri blue, or whatever it was Suna wore. So while he was caught in the crossfire, he wasn't, like, targeted or anything. At first.

He was mostly attacked indiscriminately. It didn't matter that he wasn't obviously affiliated with anyone. He wasn't obviously affiliated with _allies,_ so he was the enemy until proven otherwise.

Sasuke let his sword handle the interrogation. If they weren't Konoha, they were cut down. He made a dramatic example of his Sharingan and fire jutsu as to remind the Konoha shinobi surrounding him that he was an Uchiha. He might be unfamiliar to them, but there would be no doubt of his lineage or that he killed in defense of Konoha shinobi, and for now – for now, that _would_ be enough for them.

Sasuke fell into a trance. Killing was not new to him. Nor were long, exhausting battles. He stuck to kenjutsu when possible, staying away from any lightning jutsu to preserve his energy. It wouldn't do to tire himself out and make himself an easy target.

Easy targets were dead targets.

He wasn't dying _again_.

This war was different from the war back in his time. Sasuke hadn't been present for the meat of it – had let the Alliance throw themselves at reanimated S-rank shinobi while he muddled around behind the scenes, picking at bones – so testing himself against so many shinobi was … interesting. A learning experience. Preservation of energy and chakra was _essential._ Flashy jutsu were to be hoarded until absolutely necessary to victory.

(War tactics were kind of _exciting_ , not that Sasuke would admit as much, or even use that word out loud, ever.)

They won the battle.

Sasuke wasn't saying they (the side that was _losing,_ by the way) triumphed _because of_ _him_ , but he sure as hell _helped_. A lot. _Significantly_. He must have saved, like, more than a dozen lives out there. Considering Sasuke was naturally predisposed to the idea of Konoha's assured destruction, this was a _big thing_ for him.

The throat-cutters fanned across the alternatively scorched-upheaved-swampy field to finish off survivors or cart back wounded to the tents. Sasuke flicked his blade free of blood and returned it to its sheath.

Footsteps, in his direction. Sasuke turned and met the eyes of who he was sure was Shikamaru.

Or probably just his dad.

"You're an Uchiha,"

Said like a fact. Sasuke nodded.

"You don't wear a forehead protector. You have the skills of a jōnin yet I have never heard of you before, not even as a defector."

Sasuke nodded again. All sound observations.

"Who _are_ you?"

He kept his left eye closed and answered, "It's proper manners to introduce yourself before demanding the name of someone else."

Shikamaru's dad reacted marginally better to that than Neji did. This was accomplished by not reacting at all. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders and torso tense: still prepared for action. Sasuke chanced a look at the ground and saw that their shadows were already overlapping. Shikamaru's dad had put the sun behind him.

' _Smart.'_ Sasuke could appreciate that. However moronic every other Konoha shinobi was, at least the Nara remained the same.

"Nara Shikaku. Jōnin Commander."

"Uchiha Sasuke. Unaffiliated."

Shikaku raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? You introduce yourself as a member of a Konoha clan, you defend the lives of Konoha shinobi at the expense of your own–" Sasuke withheld a snort, because _yeah right_ , "–you linger in the aftermath for a conversation with a Konoha shinobi of standing. That doesn't sound unaffiliated to me."

Sasuke dipped his chin slightly in acknowledgement. Or something. "And what does it sound like to you, Shikaku?"

Poncho or no poncho, Sasuke was very obviously a teenager, Shikaku his senior. Sasuke felt a curl of satisfaction in the way Shikaku's eyes narrowed at the familiar, disrespectful address.

(It was the little things.)

"It sounds like you need to come back with me ... " said Shikaku, satisfying Sasuke's cynicism by following with, "... as a prisoner until your intentions have been examined and you prove that you have no ill-intentions towards the village."

Sasuke hummed. "If I had ill-intentions towards the village, I would have wiped you out here. You were losing. I didn't have to help." Sasuke scoffed. "Do whatever makes you feel safer, Shikaku."

Shikaku narrowed his eyes _harder._

Sasuke didn't smirk or anything. Nothing so obvious. His mocking cooperation made itself obvious in other ways, however.

Little victories.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

The supposed Uchiha ( _pale face, dark eyes and hair, Sharingan, proficiency with fire jutsu, there was hardly any doubt at this stage_ ) was handcuffed, slapped with chakra suppression seals, and guarded by three chūnin at all times. There was no way he was escaping – not under Shikaku's guidance, and certainly not with all the precautions – and while there was no way a _potential_ member of the Uchiha clan was being harmed, any prisoner would be feeling the heat about now.

It was Shikaku's hope that the kid would start talking. Shikaku had his own theories ( _bastard kid, parent/s were nukenin with Uchiha genes, parents were merchants who got lucky, orphan, runaway–_ ) but it didn't do to commit to one of them when you knew nothing about the target.

But the kid wasn't sweating.

He was unemotional for someone of his age. Not calm, no one could think that after witnessing him fight, but certainly cold. Another point towards his heritage. The Hyūga and Uchiha were unique in that most progeny from those clans had an innate ability to look you in the eye and communicate how little they cared about your continued existence in the world without saying a word. It was unsettling to see that look wielded with such proficiency by a _teenager._

Whatever it was _–_ psychopathy or bad genes _–_ the kid wasn't bothered by his treatment. The chakra suppression seals were limited to two (one over his heart, the other over his tailbone) as anymore could prove life-threatening. Apart from a minute twitch in his eye and a considering, thoughtful flex of his fingers, the kid was unaffected. The handcuffs had to be readjusted four times as the prisoner maneuvered himself out of them. He seemed to do it just to prove that he _could._

If that wasn't concerning enough, his chūnin guards were _afraid of him._

( _It was the_ staring _, apparently. The lifeless, cold, unimpressed stare that gave the chūnin the_ 'chills' _. What was happening to the force if war-hardened chūnin couldn't survive the bored attention of a teenage boy?_ )

The sword had been taken as well. Shikaku was holding onto it himself. The way the prisoner was looking at it caused him to believe that if the kid really wanted it back, Shikaku couldn't do much about it. Considering Shikaku was _Jōnin Commander_ , it wasn't a comforting thought to have. Their prisoner was chained up four ways to Sunday. He was powerless. He was in their control. He was outnumbered.

So why did it feel like Shikaku was being _allowed_ this?

There was an alarmed shout from the head of the formation. "How are you _doing that?_ We tightened those cuffs as far as they could go, you shouldn't have been able to – do you not have any bones?!"

The prisoner clicked his tongue and dropped the cuffs on the floor. The chūnin panicked. One of them prodded the prisoner's wrists to check if he _did_ have bones. Another turned to Shikaku beseechingly. Shikaku felt a headache come on. "Nara-sama, can't _you_ watch him?"

' _What a brat_ ,' Shikaku dragged a hand down his face. "Watanabe, Kurosawa, by the time I get there, the prisoner better be wearing those handcuffs!" He marched for the incompetent shinobi and ignored their graceless squawking. To think on it would be to invite the behavior to stay, which was one thing it certainly wasn't doing.

By the time Shikaku got there, the prisoner was once again handcuffed, surrounded by none of his chūnin guards, and – and _was that his sword_?

Shikaku checked his hip.

"How did you–" The prisoner _almost_ made a facial expression before deciding that radiating sadistic satisfaction would suffice. Shikaku sighed. "Never mind, I don't care. Just don't attack us. You can keep the sword."

The prisoner raised his eyebrow contemptuously. ' _Uchiha. For sure.'_

"But I'm taking your containment into my own hands," Shikaku said. He caught the prisoner in a Shadow Possession jutsu and felt childishly thrilled by the glint of annoyance in the prisoner's eyes. ' _Yeah, how's it feel, brat?'_ "Don't try and fight me. All it will do is exhaust you."

Potential-almost-guaranteed-to-be-an-Uchiha rolled his eyes.

They marched to Konoha in perfect harmony.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

The damn brat called the Sandaime-sama, "Sarutobi", and bowed only when everyone in the room cleared their throat and stared him down. It was a shallow bow, more disrespectful than the absence of one in the end. Shikaku's headache levelled up into migraine territory.

' _This kid…'_

Sasuke flashed his right Sharingan, cited an injury of the left eye, survived a mental evaluation from a Yamanaka (Inoichi was on a mission, which boded ill in Shikaku's opinion), and was slapped with some tag seals, and held to a promise to be evaluated by multiple shinobi to establish his skill level.

At least the new Uchiha (confirmed by Uchiha Mikoto herself) promised to participate in the war effort, so that was one good thing to come out of Uchiha Sasuke's mysterious arrival to the village.

And as far as Shikaku was concerned, it was probably the last.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Sasuke's mother was chattier than he remembered her being. She quietened after repeated unsuccessful attempts to garner a response from him, but the fact that she'd tried in the first place was honestly disturbing. It made Sasuke's skin crawl. The rest of the walk to his district – much closer to the center of the village than he remembered it being – was spent in silence. Blissful, quiet, no-noised silence.

It was music to Sasuke's ears.

He decided to ignore the ANBU following him. He wouldn't let the suspicion affect him. His plans were coming along nicely and he was one step closer to his goal of extracting Itachi from the village. There was nothing anyone – not ANBU, not ROOT, not even the Sandaime himself – could do about it.

Now, what happened afterwards wasn't something Sasuke had thought of. That was okay though, because he could always fill in the details later. For now, a simple, solid, achievable statement of intention would serve.

 _Get Itachi out of the village._

See? Easy.

* * *

\- **X -**

* * *

Nope.

Nope, nuh-uh, _no_.

Not easy, _not easy._

An issue presented itself immediately upon Sasuke's entrance to the Main House. The problem was the 'reality of the situation'. It turned out that _knowing_ that Itachi was a small, gullible child and _meeting_ a four-year-old version of his older brother were two _completely_ different things.

He had not been prepared for this.

Sasuke's older brother still sucked his thumb, apparently. It was nauseatingly endearing. Mikoto cleared her throat at Itachi. He stopped, face placid as if he'd never been caught nibbling on his finger, bowing at a perfect 90° angle. "It's nice to meet you, Sasuke-san,"

If Sasuke spoke, it would undoubtedly be an indignified choking noise, so he decided not to. Itachi's eyes were so _huge._ Those were the biggest eyes Sasuke had ever seen on a child before. It was adorable. Sasuke bowed his head in response and defeat.

Mikoto said, "Sasuke-san will be staying with us until your father can organize a house inside the compound for him, Itachi-kun. Is that okay with you?" Itachi didn't seem to understand why his opinion mattered. He was pouting. _Pouting._

Sasuke frowned, now significantly troubled. This … This was the cutest thing he had _ever seen_.

"It's okay, Mama. Um… Sasuke-san, can I ask – _nnng?_ " The sudden pause in talking was because Sasuke's fingers, detached from the possibly underdeveloped part of his brain that reasoned away bad ideas, had gone forward to poke Itachi's forehead. "S-Sasuke-san?"

' _That pout...'_ Sasuke closed his eyes. It was the only way to survive this. "Yes?"

"... Uh I wanted to ask... I've never met you before," said Itachi, audibly trying to move past the experience of a weird stranger poking his forehead without warning or explanation, "Is there a reason?"

Sasuke opened his mouth. He'd fabricated a story in order to sneak past the Yamanaka clan jutsu. The only solution he could think of to distract the Mind-reader from his actual thoughts was to push something else forward: some sort of lie, concept, or idea that Sasuke both believed whole-heartedly and had been told enough times that his brain didn't struggle to substitute it with the truth.

Mikoto grabbed his arm in a vicious grip, psychically aware of what he was thinking. "Sasuke-san is an illegitimate child," She said tightly.

The grip was beginning to hurt. Itachi looked confused. "Illegitimate child?"

"A bastard," Sasuke answered. Mikoto suddenly sprouted _claws._ Holy _shit,_ Mother _._ "I'm a bastard. Child. A bastard child."

"A bastar–"

"It's a _bad word_ ," Mikoto said quickly, "You shouldn't repeat it, Itachi-kun. But… yes, it's what Sasuke-san is," Sasuke thought on his genin days. It sure was. "That's why he's going to be living with us for now." That, and there was no better way to control an unaffiliated stranger in possession of the Sharingan than by surrounding him with even _more_ Sharingan, in hopes that the Uchiha would know what to do about a rogue Sharingan-user than literally anyone else in the world.

Showed what the Sandaime knew. The only way to control his clan, Sasuke knew, was the slaughter them all in one night and wash your hands of them. Don't even leave one alive; a complete culling and nothing less would do it. The Uchiha were much more likeable without any members around to remind everyone why they sucked. Sasuke would know. It might have been part of the reason why he defected from the village.

"Not forever?"

"No." Said Sasuke. It was the truth. He wasn't staying forever. Neither was Itachi. Not that Itachi knew that right now, but, whatever.

"Can't you live with your parents?"

"I could," said Sasuke, technically not lying.

"That's not an option," corrected Mikoto, unaware that she was lying to her cute four-year-old son, "Sasuke-san's parents aren't Konoha citizens."

… Maybe not towards the end, no.

Itachi scrunched his eyebrows together. "Oh, okay then. Welcome home, Sasuke-san. Or is it more appropriate if I call you Sasuke-nii since we live together now?"

And then, as if that verbal blow wasn't fatal enough, Itachi _smiled_ at him. Sasuke closed his eyes to protect himself from the dazzling sweetness of it.

Damn it.

' _This changes nothing,'_ Sasuke reminded himself, ' _I'm still taking him away from this place. I'll just have to be more careful and make sure I don't traumatize him on the way to freedom.'_

"... Sure."

Mikoto made a pleased noise. Itachi smiled wider and chirped, "Welcome home, Sasuke-nii! Mother, can we have some mochi now?" Sasuke was too busy trying not to die at the fact that _Itachi really did just chirp_ to cringe at the thought of mochi. Too sweet. "Sasuke-nii, do you want some?"

Sasuke looked at him. This was a mistake. Itachi's ginormous eyes were sparkling. Suddenly, the idea of Sasuke being trapped in the Eternal Tsukiyomi wasn't so absurd. He sighed in resignation and murmured a bitter, "I guess,"

Was this how Itachi felt looking after him? Was it really that hard to _resist?_ Sasuke was filled with a newer, deeper sympathy towards his big brother.

Mikoto clapped her hands, "Alright! Then, Sasuke-kun," ' _Don't call me that.'_ "Itachi-kun, wash your hands! I'll prepare everything and then I will show you to your room," She patted his shoulder kindly. "Do you have any luggage we need to pick up? Maybe at the Hokage's office?"

Everything Sasuke owned was underneath his poncho, which incidentally, wasn't even his. He'd stolen it from some poor civilian's clothesline. This might have been evident. Mikoto seemed to have no trouble deducing as much. "We'll have to go shopping later, it's no problem."

And yet, Sasuke was having trouble thinking of anything worse.

… He'd deal with it later.

After washing his hands, Sasuke sat at the table while his mother served mochi.

 _Creature of habit. Lover of routine. Reliant on patterns_. Sasuke was a difficult person to persuade. He was naturally resistant to change in the same way that others reveled in it. Unpredictability had the potential to seriously fuck Sasuke up, so he generally avoided it and was all the more stable for it. That was the sticking point in his personality. It was an anchor.

 _Was_ an anchor.

Sasuke chewed on the sickeningly sweet mochi.

Itachi and Mikoto smiled at him.

Sasuke swallowed the sickeningly sweet mochi.

"Do you like it?" Itachi asked with those big eyes of his. Sasuke wanted to gag; unable to do that, he merely nodded, forcing his chopsticks to pick up another one. "I like sweets as well, Sasuke-nii! We can get dango together, can't we?"

Sasuke _loathed_ dango. He never willingly ate dango. He normally wouldn't eat dango on pain of death. It was a disgusting ball of sugar that barely constituted as edible food.

"... Sure."

 _Damn it._


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Kick The Habit

 **Summary:** The one where Sasuke gets dropped back in time and doesn't make one single, selfless, honest effort to alter the future at all. Except to ensure Itachi's happiness, of course. As always, Sasuke's big brother comes first. [Gen. Big Brother!Sasuke. AU.]

 **Notes:** Chapters will be coming irregularly and shorter than usual. Mean complaints about this will be redirected to the trash. Btw, I'm reading all the reviews I'm just absolute trash at communication and haven't gotten around to replying. You guys are being heard, I promise!

 **Warnings:** Sasuke's casual misogyny, uhhh… that should be it, I think.

* * *

 **Kick The Habit**

 **\- X -**

* * *

The downside of falling into Konoha during the Third War was that any and all shinobi of reputable strength were, well, fighting the war, defending the village, and using their top-class skills against other shinobi with top-class skills. They were making history, challenging themselves; doing everything that _Sasuke_ wanted to be doing. It meant that when it came to Sasuke's evaluation—supervised by the Sandaime—the 'masters' he faced against weren't really masters at all. They were last resorts.

The ninjutsu master was a girl, and Sasuke was not surprised or impressed with that match-up. The taijutsu jōnin wasn't as insultingly easy to defeat, given that taijutsu wasn't Sasuke's speciality. Luckily Sasuke also wasn't a one-trick-wonder, like certain blonde-haired ramen-obsessed genin, and so he ultimately triumphed. The genjutsu one was … admittedly, not completely simple. But Sasuke passed that too. An Uchiha couldn't afford to failit.

It was around mid-afternoon when Sasuke returned to the Uchiha district with a hitai-ate in his hand. He toed off his sandals and placed them neatly against the wall.

Sizzling sounds were coming from the kitchen, and Itachi's chakra was buzzing contentedly next to his mother's. "I'm home," Sasuke called—it was more of a mumble, really—and not a second later Itachi was skidding around the corner.

"Welcome home, Sasuke-nii!" He called, inordinately thrilled to see Sasuke. This was not exactly a common reaction to Sasuke's face (discounting fangirls, who were delusional and should not be counted). Like a good Uchiha, Itachi's eyes zeroed in on the seemingly innocuous detail that was the blue fabric in Sasuke's fist. "You did it! Mama, Sasuke-nii's a shinobi now!"

"Good work, Sasuke-kun! I knew you could do it!"

The atmosphere of the house was light, warm, and overall, pretty damn comfortable. Sasuke was beginning to feel wary about the ease of which his family-who-didn't-know-they-were-family (or at least so closely related) has accepted him. Wasn't there something suspicious about it? What kind of ninjas were they?

He squinted at Itachi, who was still beaming up at him with _pride_ , of all the things. Sasuke mentally struck Itachi's name from his list of people to suspect: at this age, there was no possible way Itachi was anything but innocent. Sasuke would prefer to keep it that way.

Mikoto continued, "Are you a genin or something higher?"

"... Chūnin," was his answer.

He suspected it was the 'middle-ground' rank that the Hokage and his advisors had agreed upon, regardless (or even specifically because) of Sasuke's skills. Chūnin were gophers, monkeys, grunts, and every other lackey-related word in-between. If he wanted to go on a mission for the village that was even slightly difficult, he needed a team of other chūnin and a jōnin supervisor. Sasuke allowed the grossly inaccurate ranking because it didn't really matter. He would do what he wanted to do regardless of any precautions put in place. The jonin of this village were mere clowns compared to the power Sasuke possessed.

Itachi stopped short at Sasuke's feet and continued beaming. The wattage of his smile came with the risk of blinding Sasuke, who averted his eyes slightly to the left to avoid direct contact. "That's so cool! Are you going to be eating lunch with me and Mama or do you have to do shinobi things?"

Sasuke did, in fact, have to go and do 'shinobi things'. "I could eat," He muttered, poking Itachi's forehead. It was oddly vindicating. "Wash your hands, Itachi." His brother disappeared into the kitchen to wash his hands thoroughly.

Sasuke followed at a more sedate pace. Mikoto was in the kitchen outfitted in a flak jacket. This was... not normal.

"Wash your hands as well, Sasuke-kun," She more or less demanded. Sasuke washed his hands. She noticed his staring and raised her eyebrows. "I have a mission in an hour. You didn't think I was a civilian, did you?"

Well, yes. Either that, or a part of the genin corps. He kept this to himself.

"What rank are you?"

"Tokubetsu jonin. Which means when I tell you to do something, as your superior, you have to follow my orders. Here's an example of one: sit down and enjoy your meal, Sasuke-kun. Itachi bought some dango specifically for you! He didn't doubt for a second that you'd pass your evaluation."

Naturally.

Sasuke sat down, not because Mikoto told him to but because Itachi was staring at him. And bouncing his leg under the table. Sasuke remembered being that restless and considered the perks of starting Itachi's training early, if only to give him an outlet for his energy. Early training had never hurt a shinobi before, anyways. It was something to think about, he supposed. Until then—

"How was your day?" He asked, and with a peculiar look about him, Itachi excitedly launched into a recount.

* * *

\- **X -**

* * *

"An Uchiha born in the Kusagakure with a lightning affinity, 'aboveaverage' taijutsu, a natural immunity against genjutsu, complete mastery of his Sharingan, fire release, and his own style of kenjutsu—and you made him a shinobiof the village?"

Biwako took a much needed sip from her cup. Across the table, her foolish, foolish husband was attempting to cool her tempers by smiling at her in that charming way he did. It would not work. His charisma was beaten by his potent stupidity, and Biwako would not be deterred from her goal of informing him, at length, of the obvious mistakes of his choice.

"Hiru, what possessed you to make such a decision?"

"Uhhh." Said Hiruzen.

Biwako asked. "Was there no one around you with common sense enough to dissuade you from such folly?"

" _Uhhh?_ " Said Hiruzen, higher-pitched this time.

"You cannot be so stupid _,_ Hiru! At least tell me the outsider is being watched!"

"Extensively," Hiruzen rushed to say, "by the Uchiha clan themselves!"

Biwako finished her cup, refilled it, and added a touch of something stronger to it. For her own good. "The Uchiha may be loyal to the village, my dearest husband, but only to a certain extent. You should know that they would protect the clan before they protected the village, and if this outsider is as strong as you tell me, then they will not betray him."

The Sandaime sighed. "The Uchiha are as loyal as any other Konoha citizen, Biwako—perhaps even more so. Kagami was of the opinion that his clan cared too much, and I would trust his opinion above anyone else's."

"Kagami was also _cautious_ of new people, if you recall! Blindly trusting an outsider—Hiruzen, truly, what were you thinking? This is war time, there is no telling where this boy's true affiliations lie. Kumogakure are infamous Kekkei Genkai thieves. Is it so unlikely to you that they could have stolen a Sharingan and implanted it into their spy?"

"...No."

"No, it's not unlikely or no, that's not possible and I didn't think of that."

"Yes?"

" _Hiruzen._ "

Hiruzen cringed away from that scathing glare and feebly offered her the one answer he _did_ have. "Danzo pushed for his acceptance into the village!"

Biwako's head tilted. A-cat-watching-a-mouse tilt. It was a bad tilt. She followed the tilt with a casual, "Oh, Danzo did?" that made Hiruzen, God of Shinobi, shiver. The Sandaime wondered if it was too late to start praying for his friend.

Or, maybe not?

It was every man for himself.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

It was close to 9am, and Sasuke was half-asleep under the shade of a tree.

Above him was the muted buzz of the ANBU, easy to ignore, even with the little bit of sensory training he had courtesy of Karin, who'd experienced no less than three nosebleeds during the session. It had been a ten minute conversation.

They were quiet observers, which was a boon if nothing else; while Sasuke may have had the patience of a saint, if the elite shinobi had attempted to disrupt his training, there ran the risk of violence. And trauma. Blood, too, probably.

Luckily, the masked rats cowered happily in their holes, leaving Sasuke free to take out his poorly-buried frustrations on the trees for a few hours. He wasn't getting the smell of ozone out of his nostrils for a while, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Training over, he decided to cool down via meditation. And introspection, because that had never let him down before. If he happened to catch a nap while he was at it, then all the better. Sasuke loved multi-tasking.

Although the teen had given into the urge to ponder the meaning of his existence, he wasn't so distracted that he didn't catch the rustling of an intruder. He kept his eyes closed. He was surrounded by cannon fodder; they could deal with the idiot bothering him if need be. Or that was what he was thinking.

Until the intruder _meowed_.

Sasuke released his cautious hand from Kusanagi. He plucked a relatively long blade of grass and wiggled it, half-opening an eye to watch the cat's progress. It was a sleek black cat; blue eyes; already purring. Lost civilian pet, then—hardly wary enough to be a ninneko.

The cat came close enough to pounce at it's new toy, rolling onto its back and swatting.

 _Much_ too trusting. Not that Sasuke was complaining: he cooled down from his therapeutic daily-ritualistic-destruction-of-trees by entertaining the cat.

(The confused buzzing from inside the trees helped his mood as well.)

Eventually, he was interrupted by a giggle.

"Sasuke-nii, is this what you've been doing?"

The cat twisted onto its front, curling its tail around Sasuke's ankle. Sasuke peered at his little brother, who was holding the hands of Mikoto and a red-haired stranger. Something about her face was familiar. _A lot_ about her smile was infuriating. This wasn't an unusual first impression for Sasuke: most people infuriated him at first glance.

"Sasuke-kun, you missed breakfast," said Mikoto. Sasuke gave her an apology in the form of a shrug. Not the most sincere way to do it.

Seeing as she'd only known him for two days, Mikoto didn't seem surprised or bothered by the lackluster response. Fast learner. She released Itachi, who—much to Sasuke's immense distress— _ran_ to him. This distress was shared with his mother. "Watch out for the holes, Itachi-kun!"

As if in spite of her warning, Itachi immediately slipped in a puddle of mud.

The red-haired lady let out this obnoxious, cackling laughter that triggered something in Sasuke's lizard brain—a gland or primal instinct that urged feelings of irritation and paranoia. It was almost definitely because that kind of laugh preceded something that pissed Sasuke off: like tins of paint dropping from the ceiling, or whoopee cushions on the chairs, or an explosion of itching powder in the classroom. Annoying shit like that. It was a bad omen. That was _Naruto's_ laugh.

Sasuke knew with frightening clarity _exactly_ who she was.

Itachi picked himself up from the ground and continued stomping for his brother, now equally as unhappy as he was muddy. He ignored his mother calling out for him. He was ignoring the mud plastered to his backside with the same dogged determination. Sasuke was oddly proud of him for it—obstinance at that level was hard to cultivate.

"Sasuke-nii, you have a cat? I didn't know you liked cats. Why is this place so _dirty_? Why would you train somewhere dirty? We have training grounds at the compound, Sasuke-nii, you could have trained there with the rest of the clan!"

Sasuke scratched his new feline friend behind the ear. "What's wrong with dirty? You're dirty," Itachi puffed out his cheeks. Sasuke's heart may or may not have collapsed in on itself. "It isn't my cat."

The cat purred. Itachi looked dubious. "It looks like your cat."

"It isn't my cat."

The cat crawled into his lap. It was now swatting at some loose threads of Sasuke's poncho. Itachi frowned. "Are you _sure_?"

"This is not my cat."

"Have you told the cat that?" Asked Mikoto. Sasuke stared flatly at her. "The house is allowed animals if you want to keep the cat, Sasuke-kun."

"I don't want to keep the cat—"

"Eeeeh, what's the big deal, 'ttebane? Just keep the cat! He's totally cute!" Naruto's mother said loudly. Sasuke didn't acknowledge her existence, which she didn't seem to accept. "You're Mikoto's runaway cousin, right? I'm Uzumaki Kushina, 'ttebane!"

"Kushina is my best friend," Mikoto added when Sasuke continued to keep his silence, "so you'll be seeing her around the house a lot. I was going to introduce you two at breakfast, but... you weren't present this morning. You must have just missed her."

Her tone was hopeful, and he didn't want to read into it. The safest action was clearly to ignore Mikoto and, by proxy, the red-head. Sasuke turned his attention to his brother. "Do you want a cat?" The four-year-old blinked, thought about it, then nodded. Sasuke handed him the cat. "Look after her."

Itachi's eyes sparkled. "You bought me a cat, Sasuke-nii?!" Sasuke had very clearly not bought the cat. "I'll name her Suke-chan!"

"What if the cat is a 'he', hmm?" This was from Naruto's mother.

Who was still here.

For some reason.

Itachi looked mortally offended. "Suke-chan is _unisex_ , Kushina-obachan."

Mikoto covered her mouth and giggled. Kushina laughed as well, obviously much louder in what seemed to be a personal attack against Sasuke, "Ah, is that so? My bad, dattebane! D'ya think we should feed Suke-chan, Itachi?" The boy set his jaw and nodded, as serious as a four-year-old could be about cat food. "We'll go to the markets now! Can't we, Mikoto?"

"I need to do some shopping," She looked at Sasuke, who was now beginning to realize that his post-training cool-down-nap wasn't becoming a reality anytime soon. "If you come, we can buy some breakfast for you. That is, if you're hungry."

Sasuke honestly wasn't, and would have said as much if not for the puppy-eyes Itachi turned to him. He cuddled his new pet to his chest, enhancing his already formidable cute factor.

If we're going to be honest here, Sasuke didn't stand a chance.

The time traveler groaned, standing up. "I don't have any money," He said.

"That's okay, I'll cover for you. I'm good for it," Kushina grinned. "It'll be a good chance for us to get to know each other, don't'cha think?!"

 _There's one use for her,_ Sasuke thought, acknowledging Kushina, or more accurately Kushina's wallet, by nodding at the woman.

She looked overjoyed. She really was too similar to Naruto. Sasuke had a headache already.

And the morning had started out so well, too.

* * *

\- **X -**

* * *

"How about here?"

"No."

"Here?"

"No."

"Sheesh, you're a picky eater. What about here—I've been here with my boyfriend, you know, and their clams are amazing!"

"I don't like clams."

"You don't like clams? How can you not like clams? Then, this place has nice miso—"

"No."

The woman snarled, stomping her feet. "Do you _not eat?_ "

Sasuke gave her a sidelong glance. "I don't like clams."

"That place doesn't even _sell_ clams!"

"I don't want miso for breakfast,"

Kushina huffed. "Why _not?_ " She said, and that was definitely a whine. If she was shorter, blonde, and wearing an atrocious shade of orange, she could have been the female version of Naruto. It was driving Sasuke crazy. What was the point of travelling back in time if Naruto _still_ wouldn't leave him alone? "What about Ichiraku's?"

Before Sasuke could explain why he would rather suffer fatal chakra exhaustion than endure three seconds inside that restaurant, Mikoto beat him to it. "No. We will notgo to Ichiraku's for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner _._ Or _any_ meal with you, Kushina."

Kushina stuck out her bottom lip. "Mikoto, _whyyy?_ You're so mean, y'know! I'm your best friend, can't you be nicer to me?"

"I can be nice or I can be your best friend. I can't be both at the same time."

"It's just _ramen_ —"

"I do not have enough money for your idea of healthy ramen consumption, Kushina," Mikoto was using the same voice she used when Sasuke was a child, and he kept bothering Itachi about training. Sasuke was surprised to find that it still had some effect on him. His shoulders raised in preparation for a final token protest. "We're here to buy food for Sasuke-kun and Suke-chan and that's _it_."

Suke-chan mewled. Her owner nodded, as if in understanding. "I wouldn't mind some ramen," Said Itachi, blissfully unaware of the chaos he was tempting.

Kushina's eyes lit up. Literally. They were going a little red, and not in the same way that Sasuke's eyes did. Sasuke intervened before it could get out-of-hand, saying to his brother, "I don't like ramen that much."

It was like a switch had flipped. The easy going attitude towards his ramen-filled fate had disappeared. Itachi now looked absolutely horrified at the idea. He turned to the older women and said, so solemnly that it made Sasuke's lips twitch: "Mama, Kushina-obachan, we can't eat ramen anymore. Sasuke-nii doesn't like it."

Kushina wailed. "ITACHI, WHY?! You'd betray me so easily, dattebane? How _could you_?"

"I don't have a problem with that. How long won't we be eating ramen?"

"Until Sasuke-nii leaves," He decided. Itachi and Suke-chan looked up at Sasuke. "When are you leaving, Sasuke-nii?"

Sasuke shrugged. "Not for a while,"

 _There you go!_ Itachi's face seemed to say. Sasuke had to admit—the utter devotion of a younger sibling was addicting. It was the most innocent form of power Sasuke had ever possessed, and apart from Kushina, there were no casualties.

Sasuke gave the top of Itachi's head two perfunctory pats. "I can make something at the house, Mikoto."

He actually couldn't.

"You can cook?" Mikoto asked.

Sasuke grunted. In pre-language times, someone might have been able to translate that. Seeing as no one was a caveman, however, Sasuke was forced to click his tongue and say, "Yes."

Sasuke could _not_ cook.

"Can you make ramen?" Asked Kushina. Mikoto shot her a poisonous glare.

"No."

This was the truth.

"Can you bake?"

" _Why_?" The defensive nature of this argument was an indicator that Sasuke could, in fact, bake, and it seemed that Itachi understood that much, because he began to grin. A pre-emptive strike was necessary. Sasuke snapped, "I'm not baking any desserts."

"But you like sweets!"

This was why lying was a sin. Sasuke glared at Suke-chan. What type of cat enjoyed being held like that, and for such a long time, too? Was that really a civilian cat? Wasn't the thing starvingby now? "Shouldn't we be buying cat food?"

"We can buy some baking stuff too," said Itachi.

"Sasuke-kun can't eat baked goods for breakfast."

"I'll make tamago kake gohan," which was the only dish Sasuke knew, theoretically, how to prepare. "Let's just find some cat food and move on." This was when Kushina leaned in. _Right_ in. Too close by about five feet. Sasuke huffed. "Get away, loser."

Kushina's eye twitched. "What does Itachi see in a grumpy guy like you?"

"He's cool," Itachi smiled.

Kushina patted his head indulgently. Itachi scowled at her. "You've probably put them under some sort of genjutsu, right? Mikoto-chan doesn't warm up to anyone this fast!"

Mikoto sighed. "Kushina, please…"

"Nuh-uh, Mikoto! There's something happening here and I'm going to find out what!" Kushina leaned back, but only to make way for her accusatory finger. "There's no way someone can be _this_ pretty but such a jerk! Something fishy is going on!"

"Sasuke-kun's just shy!"

"He's so mean. And he doesn't like ramen. Who doesn't like ramen!?" Sasuke blinked. Itachi and Mikoto raised their hands.

"It's not that nice?"

"It gets soggy so quickly," they said in unison. Even Suke-chan mewled distastefully.

Without wasting any time, Naruto's mother sank into a depressive state.

It was too many emotions for Sasuke.

"I'm leaving," He said, and pushed Itachi in front of him. It went unsaid that where he went, Itachi was going as well. "Don't follow."

Naruto's mother shrieked something about how she could 'follow if she wanted to follow, 'ttebane!' But she didn't, because Sasuke had already picked up Itachi and Suke-chan. With a few shunshin, the annoying women were out of sight and out of mind.

Sasuke used the quiet to buy some food for this damn cat with money he may or may not have taken from Mikoto's pockets, and ignored Itachi's sneaking his much smaller hand into Sasuke's calloused one.

"Can we get some ice cream, Sasuke-nii?"

Suke-chan had the same eyes as Itachi—terrifying. "Cats are lactose intolerant." Sasuke muttered, and then bought them ice cream anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Kick The Habit

 **Summary:** The one where Sasuke gets dropped back in time and doesn't make any effort to alter the future except to ensure Itachi's happiness. Big brother comes first!

 **Notes:** Wow, an update? I HAD TO EDIT THE CHAPTER BECAUSE I FORGOT SAKUMO WAS DEAD SORRY HAHA

 **Warnings:** None.

* * *

 **Kick The Habit**

 **\- X -**

* * *

The first indicator that Sasuke was in trouble was his dream that night.

It started the usual way—typical fanfare of darkness and mass murder—before fading into an empty traditional style room. Sasuke stood in the middle, adorned in his borrowed poncho and sharpened blade, waiting calmly for the nightmare to begin.

It wasn't that there was something particularly ominous about the scene; it's just that the cornerstone of Sasuke's entire personality was childhood trauma, and he didn't really expect deviations with that.

 _If it isn't broke_ , said the voice in Sasuke's head cheerily.

(To clarify: he had more than one voice, which was perfectly average, but _this_ voice he liked the least. Mostly because it sounded eerily similar to Kakashi. Sasuke didn't even like dealing with the man in reality, so it was really just a bunch of bullshit that he had a copy of the shinobi inside his brain.)

When the door opened with the soft sound of wood on paper, Sasuke braced himself to face the crude combination of real and imagined monsters. His brain liked to surprise him with them. That isn't what happened this time, but that was only because what he was confronted with was much worse.

Like, hey, speaking of men Sasuke didn't enjoy dealing with.

" _You_ ," sneered Sasuke. He couldn't find it in himself to be surprised.

Naruto gave him a fanged grin.

"Me!" He agreed, shining bright with chaotic amusement at Sasuke's expense. That alone was nearly too real for a mere construction of Sasuke's self-destructive subconscious. But it _had_ to be, and Sasuke held fast to that fact, an anchor in the storm that was Uzumaki Naruto.

Sasuke could recall his old teammate's face and mannerisms perfectly because of his sharingan, and there were times (read: every single day) where Sasuke considered removing his eyeballs for the pleasure of forgetting. The constant dwelling on Naruto's blind determination to do dumb shit made the Uchiha more homicidal than usual. For everyone's sake, it was better if the two shinobi were finally able to wash their hands of each other.

Not for the first time, Sasuke wondered if such a thing were possible. Signs pointed to 'no'.

"I am in the past," He said flatly, deeply unimpressed. "How the hell did you follow me?"

"This isn't real, stupid," replied Naruto. He made a sour face. It took Sasuke a moment to pin down why it looked odd: it was Kushina's expression, his mind was having trouble overlaying their faces without confusing them for each other. "I'm a figment of your imagination, your conscious, your—"

"Conscience."

"What?"

Sasuke dragged his tongue across the front of his teeth. "You said 'conscious' yet that isn't right. You're my conscience. Do you seriously not know the difference?"

Naruto scowled at him, "You tell me, genius, because I'm in your head. Do _you_ not know the difference?"

"I corrected you, didn't I."

"You corrected yourself," Naruto said petulantly, and when he stuck his tongue out Sasuke entertained the idea of pulling it out of his mouth. Anything to shut him up. "Wow, you must really miss me, huh, Sasuke?"

It was a dream. Sasuke knew it was a dream because he'd left Naruto in the future with all the materials necessary to solve the war and _possibly_ his corpse: there was no way this was real. Everything was happening inside his head.

That didn't stop Sasuke from trying to leave the room, though.

His beeline out the door was stopped by Naruto gracelessly scrambling in front of it, waving his hands frantically and shouting, " _Wait!_ "

Sasuke waited.

"I have something to tell you!"

He couldn't think of one reason why his mind roughly pieced together a fresh Naruto to communicate some important message from the depths of his mind.

Masochism, maybe.

Except Sasuke wasn't even into that. So.

"Get on with it, then."

Naruto narrowed his eyes but didn't leap at the bait. Definitely not real. The real version would have dropped everything at the opportunity to get his ass kicked by Sasuke. "I'm here because I represent… oh, you slimy bastard. I'm here because I represent _stupidity_."

Sasuke blinked. Huh.

Naruto spluttered indignantly, red with rage. "Is that what I am to you? The physical embodiment of stupid plans?"

"Yes," He couldn't help but be pleased with himself. "That's exactly what you are. A bad idea." Naruto snarled, but Sasuke was so relieved that Naruto didn't represent something cheesy, like second chances or— _god_ —his first kiss, that he didn't deign to acknowledge it.

"Well. Screw you. And also, your plan to free Itachi sucks." Naruto crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. _There!_ His posture seemed to say. He looked unbearably smug. He got that from his mother. Sasuke hated that he knew that.

"It's a work in progress," Sasuke admitted.

"No, it's a piece of shit and it needs to be dumped directly into the trash," Naruto said decidedly.

"My plan is deceptively simple to allow flexibility in case of unexpected obstacles," Sasuke started, only to be interrupted by Naruto's grandmotherly tutting. It was such a disgusting noise that Sasuke stopped in the middle of his sentence, offended.

"Simple is a cup of one-minute instant ramen. Your plan is not to that standard, buddy. Hell, it isn't cooked! You haven't boiled the water! Sasuke, did you even buy a cup of ramen? Or did you buy the vague idea of ramen?"

Sasuke spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't know what any of those words mean."

"They mean," The fragment spoke patronizingly slow, "that there is no way you'll squirrel Itachi out of Konoha this way. Or any way... because it's impossible... Are you following? Like, at all? Don't just stand there. Nod like you understand."

Oh, to be lectured by Naruto on the concept of thinking ahead. Was this a practical joke? Sasuke crossed his arms and glowered, silent but thunderous. Of course his teammate was unaffected. If anything, the disapproval bolstered him, which was such a _Narutoism_ that Sasuke felt that recurring urge to kill him.

"I hope you realize that the element of surprise isn't a tactic."

"Okay," The former comrades simply stood there for a long moment. Sasuke tapped his foot. "But it is."

"Oh my god. _It isn't a plan_. You can't kidnap the heir to the Uchiha clan and expect the village to let you walk. Come on, Sasuke."

That was exactly what Sasuke expected to happen. He possessed abilities that put him leagues above the shinobi of his time. The only one who came close to matching Sasuke's power was Naruto himself, and considering that entire situation? He was all set.

"Let me wake up," The Uchiha demanded of the room. He was done here.

Naruto's jaw dropped. He struggled to close his mouth. He looked very stupid like that, "Sasuke, I am your Bad Idea Alert. You are supposed to listen to me when I tell you something is a bad idea. It's my sole purpose!"

"I have no use for you," Sasuke told the imitation, "Not for you and not for the person you are based off. Get out, or wake me up. I have better things to do."

They stood, staring at each other, waiting for a fracture in the mask or a hint of vulnerability. Sasuke was, as always, as close to unreadable as a human being could get thanks to his superior Uchiha genes, and Naruto ended up cracking first. He glared at his feet and scoffed. "'Better things'? Such as sitting around and pretending to be apart of a family again? As if you _could_?"

Wow. Like he needed this from _the_ orphan wonder himself. Of literally all the people in the world. Sasuke walked around him to go for the door again. This time, Naruto didn't get in the way.

"They aren't yours, Sasuke!" The fragment shouted at his retreating back, " _I_ _tachi_ isn't yours! Can't you see that you're doing more harm than good?"

The door opened into nothing. A check of the other exits revealed the same unfortunate result, leaving Sasuke with nothing to do but stand there as Naruto hollered about Sasuke's flaws.

Well, damn. If there was ever a better indicator that it was a construct of Sasuke's mind, this was it.

"You need to leave and work on returning to the time where you belong because you are not supposed to be here. Come on, would you know how to be apart of a family? Do you remember how to let yourself be taken care of? Haven't you learned your lesson?"

Right. His prattling was giving Sasuke a headache.

Maybe this _was_ a nightmare, although one of the more unorthodox versions. Therefore, Sasuke snatched his piecemeal pleasures where he could.

In this dream, it was when he unsheathed his sword and thrust it through Naruto's stomach.

True to what his presence thus far indicated, the apparition didn't disperse immediately. That would be too convenient. In fact, he gripped the blade and stared disparagingly down at it like it was a mild irritant. For a dizzying moment, Sasuke thought of the Valley, of shoving his fist through Naruto's chest, of Naruto getting up from that. Figured. What would it take to keep him down?

"Real mature of you," Naruto muttered under his breath, thankfully beginning to lose solidity. "You can't just stab everything into cooperation, bastard."

He could almost feel the blankets drawn to his chin, could smell the fresh flowers outside the open window; strangely, there was a weight sitting on his chest. He had an inkling as to what it was. It made him more than eager to escape the dream than before.

"Watch me, dobe," said Sasuke, ripping the sword out of Naruto's gut in time to jolt back into his body.

He woke up very calmly, all things considered. He dragged his eyes down to the child curled up on top of him: Itachi had snuck in early again. Sasuke didn't know if he had gotten used to his presence at night or if he'd never forgotten how to feel safe with Itachi in his room. Regardless of the odd dream, Sasuke considered himself well-rested. His brother had not disturbed him. Impressive.

Maybe they could eat dango to celebrate Itachi's burgeoning skills as a shinobi. It was an idea. One thing that was for certain, however, was that Kushina was _not_ invited.

Sasuke had enough of Uzumaki's for today.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

The second indicator was waiting for them at the house.

Sasuke walked in after Itachi, depositing his sandals at the door. "Itachi-kun!" Mikoto called. She poked her head out of the kitchen, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling. At her feet, Suke-chan lifted her chin and meowed. "Guess who's back?"

Itachi hesitated for a heartbeat before gasping, "Father?" He disappeared into the next room on quick feet. When he saw the man at the table, he said again, excited: " _Father_!"

Sasuke froze at the doorway. Uncertainty churned in his stomach, the emotion weighing his legs down until they felt like concrete. "Itachi," said Fugaku; against all odds, the rumble of his voice didn't sound unfamiliar. "Your mother tells me you went out this morning. Were you able to train?"

"Of course! I trained with Sasuke-nii!"

"Oh, and who is that?"

"He's our cousin," explained Itachi, "he lives with us now. Until the Sandaime says he doesn't have to."

"I see… and do you like Sasuke?"

"He's okay," Itachi confessed. He sounded breathless under the weight of that understatement. "He's waiting at the door. You should meet him. Kushina-obachan doesn't like him but I think you will, Father."

"Yes, well, your Kushina-obachan is not… the most trustworthy judge of character."

" _Mmm!_ " Itachi hummed in agreement.

Sasuke stared at the wall and wrestled with himself. His relationship with his father couldn't be described as straightforward. Complicated didn't capture the complexities either. Dysfunctional? Were they dysfunctional?

 _It doesn't matter what we were_ , Sasuke reminded himself. He was here for Itachi. The child who pined for his father's approval died years ago, and it wouldn't do for old ambitions to resurrect themselves now.

With that, Sasuke shook off the anxiety. Mikoto came out from the kitchen and smiled kindly at him. "The Sandaime has already explained the situation to my husband, Sasuke-kun. He's perfectly fine with your stay here. Come in, say hello!"

He stared balefully at Mikoto. Did he strike her as the kind of man who came in to say hello?

Her smile did not falter. "You're both quiet souls," she said, for some reason sounding close to pulling knives on him, "I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

As there wasn't much else to do except turn around and walk out—he had an inkling that Mikoto would not forgive him for it—Sasuke followed Mikoto into the kitchen.

Fugaku was both exactly as Sasuke remembered and nothing like he'd imagined. His parents died before Sasuke unlocked his dojutsu, so the vividest memory he had of Fugaku was the one burned into the back of his eyelids. It featured him face-down on the mat, bleeding and empty-eyed, about to become an important feature in Sasuke's driving ambition for revenge.

This Fugaku was alive. His jowls were more pronounced than Sasuke recalled; they pulled his already severe face into the most effective scowl Sasuke had witnessed. His posture was perfect, naturally, and Itachi sat at his side with his own serious face plastered on. They both looked very dignified like that, side-by-side, father and son.

Sasuke had always fidgeted too much.

His eyes were the same as his oldest sons. Fugaku surveyed him, blank-faced, and said, "Uchiha Sasuke."

That was his name, alright. If Fugaku expected a response to that, he wasn't getting it.

"So, you're the illegitimate child the Sandaime ordered the main house to foster. I've heard you are talented in the shinobi arts. Who taught you?"

He paused for the reply; never one to disappoint the expectations of others, Sasuke blandly answered, "It's none of your business."

Fugaku raised an eyebrow. Mikoto tittered, "Sasuke-kun, _really…_ "

"You were clearly raised outside of the clan. Tell me, are you pulling your weight around the house, or are you satisfied sitting on your hands, thriving off the hard work of others?"

Mikoto's lips tightened. " _Fugaku_."

"It is a valid question," Fugaku said dismissively, avoiding his wife's irritated gaze. "We cannot support the livelihood of a freeloader, Mikoto, you know this."

"Sasuke-nii trains me," Itachi reminded him. His cat nudged his foot from beneath the table. The boy smoothed his finger across Suke-chan's back, but then, after cautiously looking at his father, shooed the feline away. "And he helps mama n the kitchen."

"He's very good with knives," Mikoto said, because what was a kitchen knife if not a very short sword? Transitive property, guys. It applied everywhere. "Fugaku, he is our guest. Please remain civil."

By the looks of him, 'civil' was the last thing Uchiha Fugaku had in mind. He sighed and put his hand possessively on top of Itachi's soft head, causing the boy to look up at him in calm admiration. "Of course," Fugaku said steadily. He pulled Itachi closer to him—not too close, of course—but enough to make a point. _Mine_. "It's a pleasure to have you with us, Sasuke-san."

Mikoto's eyes drilled into the side of his head. Just to be contrary, Sasuke kept his mouth shut. He hadn't the patience for false pleasantries.

This was the last thing he cared to deal with. It was only fair Fugaku knew that.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Uchiha Fugaku was apparently as possessive as he was petty.

In the two weeks he had been back, he hadn't accepted another mission out of the village. Mikoto began to leave more often, leaving the men to occupy the house by themselves. Fugaku filled the role of clan head with ease: he organised meetings, he visited the Sandaime's office regularly for orders and advice, he attended to his clanmates, and he tackled Itachi's training with eagerness.

This had the 'unintentional' side-effect of pushing Sasuke to the side. He couldn't even help out in the kitchen as Fugaku was more than competent with cooking.

It was infuriating. The novelty of his father's return had worn off, meaning that Itachi was back to doing his level best to hang off Sasuke's arm twenty-four hours a day, although it was becoming difficult to manage. When Itachi wasn't at school, he was doing homework. When he wasn't doing homework, he was training. When he wasn't training, he was learning about clan politics from one of the elders.

He began to wilt under the pressure. Sasuke kept a watchful eye on the young boy's health. He knew how Fugaku could be, but it was harder for Itachi because he was an only child. The pressure was on him alone with no reprieves or mercy, except for his cat, which really didn't even count.

Between the older two of the household, there wasn't much to say. Fugaku didn't speak to Sasuke unless it was necessary, and Sasuke had never been one to feel uncomfortable with quiet rooms.

They were at a stalemate.

Come Wednesday, Sasuke found a brief reprieve from the tumultuous game of Tug-A-War waiting at home. Although whether it counted as an improvement to his mood was debatable.

Woo-hoo. _Mission._

The newly minted chunin he was, Sasuke had been stationed at the gates with some clown who'd given up on trying to make idle conversation. It was dull. Sasuke didn't have words for the boredom. He'd spent more hours than he liked to think about sitting around with nothing to do under Orochimaru's care, but this took it to a whole new level. He couldn't train, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't meditate.

He stood there, existing.

It wasn't worth the pay in the slightest.

The other shinobi checked her watch. "We have one more hour before the shift change, Uchiha-kun. Nearly over!"

Sasuke scowled: he couldn't believe he'd wasted eight hours doing this.

"My, my, are you alright, Uchiha-kun? You seem upset. Is there anything you need to talk about? I'm a good listener."

"Shut up."

"Sure, okay!"

It was war time, and Sasuke was behind some old booth. Sakura would chirp about karmic retribution if she were here.

Which, she wasn't.

No one was.

The simple truth of it loosened the irritated knot in Sasuke's chest.

Team Seven couldn't follow him here. There was always that to comfort him on rainy days.

Two squads returned within ten minutes of each other. The first consisted of specialized jonin who presented a letter from the Sandaime calling them home; they were sent on their way.

The second group was more standard.

Sasuke held his hands out for their papers or proof of identification, handed them to the other shinobi on duty, and crossed his arms. He glared at the home-comers. None of them looked particularly injured. Pathetic. Sasuke wouldn't return to Konoha unless he was in a body bag.

"Are you new?" The jonin asked Sasuke. She couldn't be any older than he was, and her students barely passed her knees. Seriously, school children were on the front lines. And where was he?

Sasuke was _this_ close to making Hiruzen Sarutobi eat his stupid pipe.

"I think I'd remember a face like yours. What's your name, honey?"

Before Sasuke could say absolutely nothing to that, one of the children snorted. "Don't you think your husband would disapprove, sensei?"

The jonin's ears burned, and she clipped the tattle-tale over the back of his fuzzy head. "Tomoe, keep your noise out of adult business, you hear me?"

"Then don't flirt in front of us… it's gross."

"I wasn't—there was no—I was _not_ flirting. I'm getting to know the new kid. Camaraderie is the foundation of the Konoha forces and I was simply easing him..." All three of her students were looking up at her doubtfully. The jonin flushed further. "I hate you brats."

Uninterested, Sasuke turned away from the rabble. The chunin at his side was withholding giggles, returning the stamped papers to the team. "It's good to have you back in the village, Sarutobi-sama."

"It's Kohaku, honey, I've told you this!"

"Ah, sorry, Kohaku-sama."

Sarutobi Kohaku. He didn't know the Sandaime had children. Sasuke considered the new information, turning it over in his head to assess it from every angle. A surprise, sure, but it didn't affect his plans and for that reason he put it out of his mind.

Kohaku wrapped her arms around two of her students (both of whom endured the contact longsufferingly) and beamed. "I'll rid you of that habit, Megumi, just you wait. Be sure to tell your cute little girlfriend I said hello, too!"

The chunin turned red. "Kotone will be pleased to hear it."

The jonin and her team waltzed away at the pace of a snail. It was hard to believe they'd come back from an active battlefield. Sasuke watched them go and felt like snarling. This was ridiculous.

He jumped over the booth and started walking away. The chunin choked out, "Uchiha-kun, where are you—"

"I'm leaving."

"You can't leave! We aren't finished!" He flicked his wrist contemptuously. He didn't listen to her. She warbled, " _Uchiha-kun!_ "

She would be fine, not that it was any concern of his. Sasuke took to the nearest roof. He had someone to talk to.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Sasuke never believed in the old saying, 'bad things happen in threes'. In his experience, bad things happened one after the other. Sometimes, the bad things overlapped and he kind of had to sit there and deal with it. Bad things, for Sasuke, happened in _m_ _ultiples_ of threes and often left irreparable damage to his psyche.

Every dog had its day, however. Like now. Sasuke stormed into the Sandaime's office and demanded to the room: "Give me a mission."

The room, which was not empty, went abruptly silent. It was as if the air had been sucked out.

"Oh my," Indicator Three said smoothly. Sasuke would recognize that voice if he was deaf and concussed. The only reason he hadn't recognized the _chakra_ was because it simply didn't feel the same, this far in the past. "How rude."

Sasuke sighed. Of course.

"Orochimaru."

One of Orochimaru's thin eyebrows lifted. "Uchiha. I cannot say that I've had the… hm, pleasure. What is your name, boy?"

Yeah, no. He wasn't falling for this one again.

The Sandaime dragged his hand down his wrinkly face. He waved his hand, wordlessly commanding the cautious ANBU to stand down, and lit his pipe. He took one deep inhale of the smoke to relax himself.

"His name is Sasuke," he told the snake Sannin, "I told you about him."

Orochimaru rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, a curious glint in his eyes. "Indeed you did. Well, that certainly explains the unsavory attitude. I think you may have understated it, sensei."

Sasuke didn't flinch. Orochimaru experimented on orphans. He was not an appropriate yardstick to measure morals and manners against.

"I'm not here for you," He told the pale shinobi, and turned to the Sandaime. "I'm sick of staying in the village. Give me a mission."

Sarutobi leaned back in his chair. "You expect me to comply with your demands after you've barged into a private debriefing with one of my shinobi?"

"Yes."

No one in the room appeared surprised by that. "You are on probation," the Sandaime reminded him. "I can't send you out of the village. Can I be honest with you, Sasuke-kun?"

Sasuke _didn't care_. Why was that not, like, processing.

"I don't trust you at all. Until I have proof that you won't run at the first opportunity—or worse, betray this village's secrets—then you will remind home bound. Indefinitely. Do you understand?"

"If you do not send me away, I will leave of my own accord. There is nothing you could do that would hinder me." Sasuke met the Sandaime's eyes. He did not look particularly impressed. "Do you understand?"

Orochimaru looked like he wanted to laugh—Sasuke was familiar with the expression. "Are you threatening the Sandaime, foolish boy?"

Wasn't that obvious by now?

"Why don't we kill him for his impudence, sensei?"

"Violence is not the answer," Sarutobi said dismissively. He was wrong, and probably lying, but Sasuke expected nothing less from the coward. "Even if I did want to deploy your skills, Sasuke, I wouldn't know where to put you."

"The front lines."

"There are many, as you say, _front lines._ Have—Have you fought in a war before?"

Kind of. Once. Did you need more than that?

"Hn."

"Then you understand that I cannot send wildcards out into the fray based on whims. It's a delicate situation. I won't deny that you are powerful and that is precisely why I treat you with sensitivity. Yes, you could turn the tides, but can I say definitively if that would benefit our cause? No. For that reason, you will stay where you can be monitored."

"By you," Sasuke finished.

"By someone powerful enough to keep you at bay," He corrected.

That was just complete nonsense.

"And until you _trust me_ ," Sasuke spat the words, "you expect me to be content with gate duty?"

"I expect you to do as you are told, but perhaps that's ambitious of me."

"You're a moron."

Orochimaru covered his mouth and turned away. His shoulders were shaking. The Sandaime was caught between anger and exasperation. This kid was an unholy combination of Orochimaru's caustic derision, Jiraiya's penchant for disrespect, and Tsunade's inborn entitlement.

Sarutobi changed tactics.

"Are you not pleased with your living arrangements? I've heard that you and Itachi-kun have grown close these past few weeks. Like brothers, is that correct?"

Sasuke went still. He warned them: "Don't talk about Itachi."

Although surprised, the Sandaime, sensing that Sasuke was about to _lose his fucking shit_ , sighed heavily. "There is nothing you can say or do to change my mind, Sasuke. I am sorry. The answer is 'no'."

The Sandaime smiled. Such a senile old man. He was sitting in the same room with the only two people in the whole of Konoha who would dare hurt him, and he didn't even realize. The reality of it all was like a soothing balm. Hm. Maybe what the Sandaime needed was reminding of his mortality?

As he couldn't very well do that right now, Sasuke settled for narrowing his eyes and thinking about it super hard.

"Maybe you should focus on integrating into the community, how does that sound? You are _home_. Try to feel like it. Who knows? You might feel better about being tied down."

"I doubt it."

The door slammed satisfyingly behind him. He would have to do it more often.


End file.
